


Can you hear me?

by AliceReturned



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes (BBC Radio), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: After Reichenbach, Angst, M/M, Reichenbach, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceReturned/pseuds/AliceReturned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Briefly after Sherlocks funeral John comes back to Baker Street!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can you hear me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bottomlock5eva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomlock5eva/gifts), [Bumblebeeholmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumblebeeholmes/gifts).



> This is just a short ficlet! <3 Read and comment you little Johnlockers

The rain was falling on John’s blonde hair and skin as he was walking through the cold streets of London, walking to his old home. He was on his way back from the funeral. He just buried another fallen friend, but this one was different, Sherlock Holmes was more than just a friend, he was the man John Watson was deeply in love with and now, now he was gone, six feet under the ground. “One miracle, Sherlock, don’t be dead”, he murmured over and over again. John turned on Baker Street when his heart began to ache of all the good memories. This was the place they used to live together, were they used to be together. John hesitated when he arrived at the door of 221b and didn’t know if he should go inside, but he had to, just one more time. When his hand reached for the doorknob it was opened from the inside by the old woman who lived there. “Oh, hello John”, Mrs. Hudson, their old landlady greeted him while John struggled with finding the right words. “Come inside I make as a cuppa”, said Mrs. Hudson and went inside her little flat. John stood at the stair case, looking up and his throat immediately went dry, his hands started to shake and his leg began to hurt again. “It’s psychosomatic”, he recalled what his therapist told him and what Sherlock noticed the first time they met. He couldn’t move, for an eternity, before he took one stop after another and stair after stair. There was the last door that kept John outside of his old home. He opened it and the familiar smell overwhelmed him the second the door was open, the smell took his breath away for a moment and he had to swallow. The former army doctor closed his eyes, for a split of a second it was like he could hear Sherlock doing some weird experiments on body parts in the kitchen, but when John opened his eyes again the sound vanished and reality hit him right in his face. All the furnishing kept collecting dust, Sherlock’s chair hadn’t been used for a long while and the skull rested on the mantelpiece. “I miss you” he thought and “Bloody bastard” he said into the empty room where no one could answer his insult. There he stood in the middle of their living room and Sherlock’s desk was still covered in piles of books, documents and old newspapers, all of it left behind by Sherlock. John didn’t dare to touch; neither clean nor even look at it, it hurt too badly. He went up to his bed room that he hadn’t slept in for days, because he couldn’t bear the thought of coming down the stairs in the morning for breakfast without Sherlock waiting for him in his chair or desk. John got his suitcase and packed everything he thought it would be necessary to get out of the flat. All of the memories of the past two years kept running through his mind, all the cases, troubles, fights over body parts in the fridge and the way they used to look at each other for several minutes. John would never admit it but he, the ex-soldier, was in love with the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes whom Moriarty took from him for the last and final time. John needed a moment, sat down on his bed, buried his face with his hands while trying to hold back the upcoming tears. “I should have told you I love you, I should have told you how much I need you”, John whispered and wished that Sherlock somehow would hear him. He had seen it, saw how his friend jumped of the roof of the St. Barts Hospital and still he didn’t want to believe that the man he loved had killed himself. “I should have asked you if you wanted to be my partner”, he said and a tear was dripping from his chin into his lap. “Maybe you wouldn’t have jumped…Maybe we would be happy by now…”, he looked up and could have sworn that he had seen a shadow at the door, his shadow, Sherlock’s shadow. “Can you hear me, I love you”, John said with a trembling voice.

 

**He heard him, he wanted to reply but couldn’t. Sherlock just stood there, smiling and crying at once, because this is what he wanted and couldn’t get**


End file.
